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From: "Lord God Pantokrator" <lordgodpantokrator@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} The Moons of Yothis, Part 6: Gods and Lions (m/f, f-1st, fantasy)
Lines: 684
Date: Sun, 21 May 2006 04:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Part 6, Gods and Lions.txt" begin>

Part 6: Gods and Lions

   (m/f, f-1st, fantasy)

   Aaron and the crocodile-man reached a tall hill and looked down upon
Last Town.  It was a pitiful place protected by a wooden palisade.  Small
houses surrounded it, unlit and quiet, the homes of tenant farmers who
worked the scraggly pastures nearby.  Even in the darkness, there was an
air of sorrow and desperation about the place.  The people may have been
cruel to the wild people, but they suffered terribly under the yoke of Lord
Kaliss.

   "Murderers," Krace the crocodile-man said.  "I'd like to eat every one
of them.  But really, I just want to eat.  Let's move, find some lost
quickdeer or something." He picked his teeth with one long claw.

   "And the Great Lion, right?" Aaron asked.

   "Huh?  Oh, right.  Though really, I'd prefer just to rip 'em all apart
myself."

   "But you said we can't," Aaron said.  "There are too many."

   "I know, I know," Krace said glumly, and set out toward the horizon. 
Aaron followed, staring up at the crocodile-man, the akhet.  Though Krace
had done him no harm, some primitive part of Aaron's brain screamed every
moment he spent with the creature.  They traveled late into the night,
Aaron tense and hungry, frightened like an animal would be frightened,
Krace walking slowly, his tail swishing, until the temperature fell and he
could travel no more.

   They awoke to cries of battle.  It was dawn, the air still cool and dry.
Aaron jumped to his feet before he was fully conscious, dragging his curved
bronze sword from its loop.  The air was dusty and he could see little
except the massive form of the akhet, still asleep.  He raced around a
copse of dry trees and saw the tail-end of a battle: Vahcha men armed with
bows and spears had ambushed scouts from Last Town.  One survivor ran for
his life, his horse already dead, but an arrow took him in the back and he
fell with a clatter of armor.

   One of the Vahcha men had died, but six remained, tense and weary. 
Aaron tried to hide but one of them noticed him and raised the alarm.  The
others raised their bows.

   "I mean no harm," Aaron shouted, hoping they understood Low Quist.  He
gripped his sword and looked around for Krace, but the akhet was probably
cold-blooded and sluggish this early.

   "Toss swords out and walk into open," shouted one of the Vahcha men in a
thick accent.  Aaron gritted his teeth, tossed his weapon away, and stepped
out to face a half-dozen armed warriors.

   "I'm not with Lord Kaliss," Aaron said hastily.  "I'm not from Last
Town."

   The leader, a cruel-looking man with an "X" scar across one cheek, spoke
a few words in an unfamiliar language.  A smaller man translated.

   "Anyone else with you?" he asked.

   Aaron weighed the possibilities and decided on honesty.  "Yes.  I'm
traveling with an akhet named Krace.  Together we escaped Lord Kaliss'
dungeons."

   The smaller warrior repeated what Aaron had said, and a murmur went
through the group.  To his relief, Aaron noticed the arrow-points drop
slightly.

   "What brought you?" the translator said.

   "I was with a merchant caravan," the boy said.  No reason to offer the
whole truth.  "Bandits."

   There was a murmur of understanding.  The translator spoke for a time
with the group, who had lowered their weapons.  Things seemed to go well
until the apparent leader--the man with the X-scar--started to argue. 
Aaron watched, hoping for Krace to wake up, as the argument escalated.  It
came to blows: X (as Aaron had started to call him in his mind) slugged the
translator, who collapsed in a heap.  The others tensed, but did nothing to
stop X as he kicked the translator in the ribs, waving a curved steel
knife. X shouted orders and the wild men moved toward Aaron.

   The boy ran for his sword, but it was already too far away: the warriors
surrounded him, clubs and spears raised, and Aaron froze and raised his
hands.  They bound him quickly, then X ordered a search.  A few minutes
later, the wild men (one man short) dragged Krace from his hiding place. 
He was still sluggish, but he bellowed with rage and struggled against the
ropes that held him.  Still, when he pulled they only tightened, and Aaron
knew there would be no escape.

   Dragged behind the warriors, they reached the village of the Vahcha
people by midday.  Hidden by brambles and jutting rocks, it seemed to
materialize before Aaron.  He was tossed without ceremony into a pit with
neither sustenance nor companionship, guarded by a surly warrior who stared
down at him with contempt.  Some time near evening the guards rotated and
the new one tossed a water bladder and some tubers down to Aaron, who ate
frantically, having missed breakfast.

   Aaron sat and thought.  He needed to reach Lord Ruby.  He needed to find
Olivia.  He needed to free Azha the mirix from Lord Kaliss' clutches.  And
he needed to get out of this damn pit.  All thoughts of aiding the wild men
had fled him, though he still owed something to Krace...if he was still
alive.

   Others had fallen before him into this pit.  They had not been taken
out: their tattered clothes clung to their bodies, powder blue cloaks that
Aaron recognized as belonging to Kaliss' men.  Did the Vahcha people think
he was one of those killers?  Aaron rummaged among the fresh corpses,
trying to keep his food down.  They had been stripped of weapons and
valuable, but they still had their heavy capes.  And one had been left with
the hilt of his sword, though the blade had broken.  Aaron glanced up at
the guard, then set to work.

   After an hour of labor, the month he had spent in Boy Scouts paid off,
and he had a rope made of the capes.  At the tip of one rope was the broken
hilt.  Aaron stood up, preparing his toss.  It would have to be perfect. 
He swung wide, then tossed his makeshift grappling hook toward the guard
above him.  It caught on his shoulder.  The guard yelped and the grapple
fell back into the pit, and Aaron cursed, but he had thrown the guard
off-balance: the man staggered, then fell into the pit with a cry, landing
badly.  Aaron was on him in a second, slamming the hilt of the sword into
the bridge of the man's nose.  In a moment it was over.  Aaron took the
man's bronze axe and after a second toss of his grapple, clambered out of
the pit.
He blinked at the glare that confronted him: a bonfire roared no more
than thirty paces away, eclipsed by the tall bodies of warriors.  Aaron
inched forward, compelled to witness whatever savage spectacle transpired

near the fire.

   Two men stood in the middle of the circle.  One was old but not yet
frail, with thick muscles and keen, hard eyes.  His face was set, but not
hateful, and he held a spear in a defensive position.  The other was X, his
face twisted in a mask of fury.  He spun his spear about his head, then
suddenly lunged, holding the weapon one-handed so it shot its full seven
feet forward, like a striking serpent.  The older man parried, but X moved
effortlessly into his next series of attacks, wielding the spear like a
great two-handed sword, both hands at its base, trying to open his
opponent's throat.  But his foe was wary, and when X reached too far, he
sidestepped and attacked, stepping forward to close distance, using short,
deadly jabs that forced X back toward the bonfire.

   As the battle raged, people cheered.  Men held spears and clubs,
clutching shapely women with dusky skin and dark, wavy hair.  They wore
grass skirts, their breasts concealed by ivory and lapis lazuli necklaces.

   Aaron pulled himself away from the ritual duel.  He needed to find Krace
and escape.  The village consisted of several communal huts, some circular,
some rectangular, all apparently temporary: these were a nomadic people,
following the wildebeast and great flightless birds that roamed the
savanna. But where would they keep a draconic gourmand?

   Aaron darted into the shadows when he heard the soft pad of feet on
dirt. Two warriors were approaching, talking quietly among themselves. 
Aaron ducked into a hut, his hand tight on his axe.

   He knew he had made a wrong turn instantly: a great cauldron bubbled in
the center of the room, filling the air with sweet spices and the smell of
wood-smoke.  The dim firelight caught a figure, female but otherwise hidden
in shadow.  Aaron turned to leave, but the warriors walked past the door.
Instead the boy retreated into a hidden corner of the hut.

   The girl stepped into the fireflight, her face illuminated by the
flames. She was pretty--beautiful, in fact--with a sweet, round face, dusky
skin and large brown eyes.  Like the other women in the village, her hair
was wavy, very dark brown or black, and pulled back from her face.

   Aaron's heart pounded as he hid from the guards, who stood outside of
the hut, talking in a language he did not know.  Aaron had his axe, but
even with the element of surprise, he could not be sure he could overcome
them with an unfamiliar weapon.  And besides, even the harshness of this
new world had not turned the boy into a callous killer.  Instead, he
slipped deeper into the room, keeping his eyes on the girl.

   She wore a bright shift that left her graceful arms and legs bare.  It
would have been tacky in any other environment--a garish, clashing,
Hawaiian shirt-analogue--but in the firelit hut, with the contents of the
cauldron glowing unnaturally, it seemed primal and frightening, and Aaron
found himself staring as the girl worked her strange magic.

   Her shirt, Aaron saw, was woven from flowers, and more flowers grew at
the far side of the hut, forming a beautiful tableaux on the wall.  Aaron
wondered for a second if the flowers were a sort of mosaic--he saw shadows
of animals and men--but it was only the flicker of the fire.  The girl
continued her work and Aaron watched, wondering what to do.  The guards
still shuffled outside.  He was exhausted and hungry.  He needed to find
Krace.  Perhaps the girl could help?  Not all the wild people were cruel.
Aaron edged forward, weighing his chances.  He cleared his mind: calculate.
Concentrate.  He had survived worse.

   The girl looked up, and whether Aaron had stepped for a moment into the
light or if the girl's eyes could pierce the shadows, but her dark eyes
seemed to pin him to the wall.  She opened her mouth to cry out and Aaron
reacted, clearing the distance between them in a heartbeat and clamping his
hand over her mouth.  She stiffened in fear, then reached for a knife on a
nearby altar.  Aaron dropped his axe into the packed earth, twisted her
hand behind her back and held her, his back against the cauldron, the heat
of the fire warming his heels.

   "I don't want to hurt you," Aaron said.  "Do you understand me?"

   The girl nodded.  She was trembling.  She smelled like strange spices.
Aaron carefully removed his hand from her mouth, but remained ready to
strike.

   "You were...captured," the girl said in Low Quist, her accent thick. 
"N'ze' brought you back."

   "N'..." He could not pronounce the name.  The sounds were alien to
English, Spanish, and Low Quist, a series of clicks and whistles
interspersed with consonants and soft hums.

   "N'ze'," the girl repeated.  "of the Elevated.  He plans to rule our
people, and destroy the wall people.  Please, do not harm me."

   "I promised I wouldn't," Aaron said.  "But I won't go back to that pit."
He tightened his grip for a moment, making himself clear, and the girl
shuddered.  Aaron continued.  "The lord of Last Town is vicious enough, but
the wild people seem just as cruel."

   "We are not 'wild' people," the girl said, spinning around and slipping
from Aaron's grip.  He did not grab her again, and she made no moves to
run. "We are the U'hd, the last of the tribe of Hi''e.  Kaliss' line and
other servants of Uxulan have wiped us out.  We are shadows.  Soon we will
be the barbarians people believe us to be."

   "I...didn't know," Aaron said.  He paused, then nodded.  "We have
something in common.  I would like to see Kaliss kicked over.  I have
an...obligation." He thought of Azha, imprisoned by the foul man.  "And
with him gone--"

   "Maybe my people will not become savages," the girl said.  "But what can
I do?  I am the x'sh'i of my tribe and--"

   "The...?"

   "The...witch?  The shaman, I think.  But not yet, not fully.  I am still
training.  I know things and see things, but I cannot change history."

   "Maybe I can," Aaron said.  "Can you find the Great Lion?"

   The girl flinched.  "I could not," she said.  "I cannot..."

   "Why not?  My companion says the Great Lion could stop Kaliss."

   The witch-girl's brows furrowed in concentration.  She was, Aaron
noticed again, surprisingly pretty, with a magnificent figure barely
concealed by her flower dress.  "The Great Lion," she said, pulling Aaron's
gaze up from her full breasts, "is very dangerous.  He could destroy Last
Town, but he could destroy much more, too.  But why do you care?"

   Aaron picked up the axe, drawing a troubled glance from the girl. 
"Kaliss has enslaved someone who saved my life.  Also, I owe it to my
companion, Krace the akhet." Aaron wondered for a moment if he should just
abandon his fool's quest and make a break north.  Perhaps that was what his
wizard companion, Turvis, would want.  But then he saw the girl's eyes,
shining with admiration.

   "What's your name?" Aaron asked.

   "Ch'h'ki," Ch'h'ki said, uselessly.  Aaron blinked.  "Oh, but wait, that
means something.  A type of cloud.  'Cirrus!' You can call me Cirrus."

   "Alright, Cirrus," Aaron said.  A great shout came from outside the hut
and Aaron fought the urge to flinch.  "Can you help me?"

   "I can," Cirrus said.

   "I was told I would need to find the...'Lion Girl,'" Aaron said.

   "Only if you did not have a x'sh'i with you," Cirrus said with a playful
smile.

   "So what do we do?" Aaron asked.  He glanced back toward the door: the
shouts had become sounds much like celebration.

   "Hurry," Cirrus said.  "Either N'ze' has killed H' or he has died in the
attempt, and either way, our politics will grow muddled for a time.  I can
show you the way to the Great Lion.  I just need--" She started gathering
ingredients: strange herbs in ceramic jars, or wrapped in bundles.  Then
she stopped.
"What is it?" Aaron said.  He couldn't keep his hand away from his sword

hilt.

   "The last ingredient.  I'll need..." She glanced at Aaron and her round
cheeks colored.  "Never mind.  I have what I need.  Follow me.  My people
will not follow me to the Bleak Hill."

   They slipped out a hidden side exit and made their way through the
village.  A guard ordered them to halt, but Aaron disappeared behind a
fallen stone while Cirrus engaged in hasty negotiations (or threats).  At
last the man retreated, his hand raised in a sign of mystic warding, and
they raced up a hill just out of the village's sight.

   There was another cauldron there, old and stained, and Cirrus lit a
fire. She tossed the ingredients in, one by one, until they formed a
sweet-smelling froth.  As she worked, she talked about her society and her
life.  Aaron quickly grew fond of Cirrus, who displayed an awareness of the
world not at all in keeping with her savage environment.

   "I'm a shaman, after all," she said.  "I see in my mind's eye more than
most people see traveling the world.  I have to, or I'd go mad here." She
tossed a bundle of roots into the cauldron.

   "Mad?" Aaron asked.  "It doesn't seem so bad." Cirrus had given him the
task of cutting up certain roots, which he did with an uncharacteristically
sharp and well-made steel knife.

   "There is so little here," Cirrus said.  "We keep moving to hide from
Lord Kaliss.  I keep us hidden, but my people hate and fear me.  I cannot
join the celebrations.  I cannot walk outside without people whispering."
Cirrus sighed, her hand poised over the cauldron.

   "What?" Aaron asked.  He had tossed the roots into the cauldron and
waited for more instructions.

   Cirrus shifted.  "The...um...last ingredient.  To, um, find the Lion
God. You see, he is a powerful, um, male presence, and, um, sympathetic
magic and all..."

   "What?" Aaron had lost the thread of her discussion.

   "I need--Well, you need to..." Cirrus colored profoundly, not quite
meeting Aaron's gaze.  "I don't know the word.  What comes from your..."
She gestured vaguely toward Aaron's lower anatomy.

   The boy's eyes lit up.  "Oh.  OH!  You need me to--" Cirrus nodded.  "In
the--" She nodded again.  "Could I, um, have a bit of privacy, then?"

   "Oh, of course!" Cirrus skittered down the hill and sat behind a tree.
"You can, um...Tell me when you're done, and I'll, um, we'll finish the
ritual to find the Lion God." She fell silent.

   Aaron approached the cauldron.  It bubbled with sweet-smelling roots,
throwing up the occasional puff of smoke, and was absolutely not the sort
of thing Aaron wanted to masturbate into.  Still, if it would help him find
the Lion God, help him free Azha...he opened him tunic and gripped his
cock, then began to stroke.  He tuned out his environment, the moon-filled
sky, the hill covered in short yellow grass, the cauldron, and recalled the
girls he encountered.  Miacla's sleek warrior's body, the way she licked
her lips as Wenet performed her erotic dance...Wenet, and her full breasts
bouncing as she rode him...Azha, her lips wrapped around his cock...

   He was hard and began to stroke in earnest, his mind whirling.  He
thought of the girls he had met and seen, the girl at the party in
Tilnabar, and then Cirrus, hidden behind the tree.  He wondered if she was
watching, wondered if curiosity would overcome her natural shyness. 
Opening his eyes, he glanced back quickly and caught two black eyes staring
out at him.  They disappeared immediately.

   "What are you doing down there?" Aaron called, painfully aroused.  No
response came.  He turned and peered into the thicket.  "Are you alright?"

   "I'm...alright," came Cirrus' voice, shaky and hesitant.  "Are you...are
you doing alright?" There was another rustle from the bushes, and an
awkward silence.  Aaron gritted his teeth, his arousal overcoming his
courage.

   "Do you have anyone in the village?  A boy?" His conversation sounded
idle, absurd.  He shook his head, but kept masturbating.

   "N-no," came the response.  "The boys of the village fear me.  They all
do.  They think I'm poison."

   "Are you?" Aaron asked.

   "No!  I promise!  I mean...no, it's just a rumor.  It is a lonely life,
despite my wisdom."

   "You've never been with anyone?" Aaron asked.  He licked his lips.  He
wanted to glance back, but fought the urge.

   "No," the girl said.  "I've never even seen...a man."

   Her voice quavered, but Aaron's mind turned.  Was she trying to lead him
on?  Did she want something just as badly as he did?  He took the chance.

   "Would you like to see one?" he asked, in a voice he hoped sounded very
macho and heroic.

   There was no response, and Aaron sighed, his erection flagging.  Had he
just made a spectacular fool of himself?  He thought of what a mysterious
witch-girl could do to him, then realized it couldn't be worse than a
strong dose of humiliation.  He looked back, expecting to see Cirrus racing
away, and almost jumped out of his skin: she stood next to him, her bronze
skin gleaming in the firelight, her black eyes fixed on his half-erect
cock.

   Aaron buried his anxiety deep and put on a brave facade.  He stroked his
dick slowly, watching the girl, and between his false bravado and Cirrus'
genuine beauty he was rock-hard again in moments.  Cirrus only watched,
occasionally swallowing.  Eventually, she whispered, "Does it feel...good?"

   Aaron smiled.  "Of course it does.  And it's better now, being able to
see you." Cirrus looked away, but smiled sweetly.

   "If my teacher knew I was seeing this, she would be furious," the girl
said.  "But I suppose she would be furious if she knew all my secrets."

   Aaron's dick jumped.  "Your secrets?" he asked.  "I suppose," he stopped
to moan as he stroked himself, "it must be lonely."

   "It is," Cirrus said, skirting carefully around the matter.

   "How often do you touch yourself?" Aaron said, surprised by his own
brazenness.

   "Twice a moon, maybe," Cirrus whispered.  "I know I shouldn't, my
teacher might hear, but..."

   "When was the last time?"

   "A...a while ago." Cirrus blushed, but then looked up at Aaron with a
mischievous gleam in her eye.  "Would you, I mean, could I--"

   "I'd like to watch," Aaron said, his cock throbbing.  "And after all,
it's only fair." With his free hand, Aaron doffed his cloak, giving the
girl something to sit on.  She sat down, fixed her eyes on Aaron's member,
and hiked up her skirt of flowers, exposing long, tan legs.  Her gifts were
hidden in shadows, but Aaron watched as her fingers disappeared between her
legs.  She sighed as she frigged herself, her head lolling from side to
side.

   Aaron kept stroking, watching the girl as a flush spread across her
skin. She quickened her pace, her fingers moving rapidly in and out. 
Suddenly she let out a short cry and fell back, gasping for breath.  She
withdrew her fingers, which glistened.  Aaron leaned over her, then sat
down on his cape beside her.  As her breathing slowed, he raised her head
and kissed her.  She gasped with surprise, then kissed him back, clumsy but
eager, her hand tangling in his hair.  She pulled him toward her, on top of
her, and he kissed her again, groaning as her tongue explored his mouth.

   Cirrus pulled him closer, her thighs flexing to draw him in, her lips on
his.  Aaron struggled for only a moment, then aligned himself and let the
girl's trembling legs pull him into her.  The tip of his cock slid past her
curly hair and her soft folds.  They both gasped, still kissing, when the
head popped in.  Cirrus' heels pushed on Aaron's butt, but his dick had
reached a blockage.  When he strained against it, Cirrus whimpered in pain
and broke off their kiss.

   "Here," Aaron said.  "Roll over." He wrapped his arms around the girl
and they rolled so she was on top of him, carefully balancing so she
wouldn't suddenly impale herself.  She moved her hips back and forth, the
tip of Aaron's dick still penetrating her.

   "It hurts," she whispered, though her ass moved rhythmically back and
forth.

   "Take this off," Aaron said, tugging at the girl's flower gown.  She
smiled and pulled it off of her, tossing it to the ground beside them, and
rode him naked, her body gleaming with sweat and reflected firelight.  Her
breasts were large and round, high on her chest, above a flat, tan belly. A
tuft of curly black hair concealed her secrets, Aaron's dick still half
inside, tantalizing close to taking the girl's virginity.  He pulled her
down on top of him, wrapped his arms around her sweaty back, and thrust up
into her.  Cirrus tensed, her body rigid with pain and excitement, then
suddenly her virginity gave way and Aaron sank in as deeply as he could.

   "Oh, fuck," he gasped, gritting his teeth as he savored the girl's
wetness.  After a moment, Cirrus began to move on top of him, gentle
rocking motions that made her gasp with sore pleasure.  Aaron withdrew
partially and risked a long, slow thrust into her.  Cirrus found Aaron's
lips and kissed him again as his cock sank in again.  She pulled away and
sat on him, his dick quivering inside her, then began to move her hips back
and forth.  Aaron met each tentative motion, his hands on Cirrus' slim
waist to steady her, though as she increased her pace one hand slid between
her legs.

   Aaron watched her slide back and forth on his dick.  Somewhere in the
back of his mind he recalled a purpose to this exercise.  What was it?  And
then the sight of Cirrus' body on top of his, pushing down against his
cock, wiped all those thoughts from his mind.  The girl leaned back and
forced herself onto his cock again and again.  Her legs tensed and with a
long, quiet moan, she climaxed, her pussy clamping down on Aaron's hard
cock.  He road the wave, trying not to come yet as Cirrus relaxed, her
fluids flowing across his dick.

   Aaron thrust wetly into her, then flipped the girl back and landed on
top of her and sank again into her wet pussy.  He set up a good rhythm
while Cirrus hissed "Yes...yes..." with each thrust.  Aaron pulled her
close, enjoying the feel of her round, slick breasts on his chest, and
kissed her neck while they made love.  Cirrus was nearly spent, her legs
quivering on either side of Aaron's hips, gasping dizzily for breath
between thrusts.  Still she found the strength to push her hips up, meeting
Aaron's each thrust, until the boy realized he could no longer hold back.
His balls boiling, he doubled his pace while Cirrus mewed with pleasure
below him.

   Again, some dim part of his mind registered concern, and would not
entirely disappear beneath jolts of pleasure.  What was it?  His...his
semen, of course!  The ingredient for the spell.  As his orgasm began,
Aaron pulled out, dragging his dick from Cirrus' wet tightness.  Lightning
ran up his spine as he came: the first load left a white line from the
girl's cheek to the bottom of her breast.  Another splattered across her
breasts, and a third stained her smooth belly.  Drops spattered Cirrus'
inner thigh and ran down her leg.  Aaron sighed, trying not to fall over on
top of the girl, which would ruin all his hard work.

   After another moment his thoughts cleared and he saw Cirrus below him, a
bit of his semen between her fingers, staring at it curiously.

   "Remember why we were doing this?" he asked, smiling.

   Cirrus looked up and smiled back at him.  The next few minutes involved
both of them scooping Aaron's cum from various obscure places and dumping
it in the crock pot.  Aaron could not think of a less romantic exercise,
but they giggled all the way through it, laughing like fools until the
ingredients reached some sort of critical mass and with a loud hiss, the
liquid in the cauldron gained an even, quicksilver-like consistency. 
Despite the heat, it stopped boiling, stopped rippling, and became utterly
still.

   "What happens now?" Aaron asked.  He had stopped laughing at the
sorcerous reaction.

   "We find the Lion Girl," Cirrus said, her voice serious, "and plead for
help in finding the Great Lion." As she spoke, she dropped a pitcher into
the silvery fluid and pulled it out, then offered it to Aaron.  The boy
stared at it dubiously for a second, then drank.

   "It's like a fraternity hazing," he muttered as the salty, slimy potion
went down his throat.  Then his world fell away.  He saw himself and
Cirrus, standing naked beside the cauldron, then his vision suddenly jumped
across to the village, where X celebrated with his loyal supporters as
weeping women carried away the corpse of the old chief.  Things are bad
there, some dimly aware part of Aaron thought, before his vision jumped
away again.  It flew liked a crazed supersonic moth, jumping first so close
to the moons that Aaron wondered if he'd end up home, then racing along the
colorless nighttime grass, back to Last Town, where the magical eye that
was Aaron raced through the muddy streets, past sad-looking guards, into
Lord Kaliss' palace.

   He lay on a pile of furs across from Viskar, who still wore his golden
demon-mask but was otherwise naked, a beautiful slave-girl curled up at his
feet.  Azha the mirix lay beside Kaliss, bound to him by a thin golden
chain.

   "Uxalan's armies are on the march," Viskar said.  "They have almost
taken Tilnabar.  But my concern is with the aliens, and with what Turvis
has summoned."

   "Relax," Kaliss said.  His eyes fell to the slave-girl beside Azha, who
hid her face behind long blond hair.  "Turvis will raise no army of wild
men.  The new chief will throw himself against my might too soon and
destroy his people."

   "And the beast gods?  What of the Lion?" Viskar leaned forward, his
fingers caressing his gem-encrusted staff, the girl at his feet all but
ignored.

   "Leave the Lion to me," Kaliss said.  "You have already loaned me the
raft--"

   "Wait," Viskar said.  "Someone is watching us."

   With a jolt of fear, Aaron willed himself to flee, and his disembodied
self fled again across the grasslands.  Its course righted with a wobble
and fled back across the village to a nearby hill.  There a young woman
fled from hunters.

   Aaron forced his vision to sharpen, to see what the light of the moons
could show him.  The young woman was small but well-formed, and she wore
little but a bikini top and a short skirt made of beast fur.  She held a
spear, wooden with a charred tip, decorated with feathers and beads, and
there were feathers woven into her hair.  She moved across the rocky crag
in utter silence, as did her persuers.

   They were men and beasts.  One bit a curved knife that Aaron recognized:
it was the same type as the one X carried.  The others were all wild men of
the village, moving with hunters' grace over the bare rock.  The girl,
clearly exhausted past any human endurance, staggered, and a rock bounced
free and clattered to the ground.  A hunter shouted and the chase was on,
the girl fleeing hurled javelins, coralled by the men like a frightened
quickdeer.  But then she lashed out and a man fell, his chest spewing a
river of blood...

   The images faded as quickly as they had begun.  Aaron withdrew into
himself and found himself lying on his white cape.  Cirrus hovered over
him, a concerned look on her face.  She had once again donned her flower
dress.

   "Have you found the Lion Girl?" Cirrus asked.  She helped Aaron to his
feet.  Suddenly aware of his nakedness, he adjusted his clothes and dusted
off his cape before tossing it around his shoulders.  He thought for a
moment and realized that he could picture, in his mind, every step from
where he stood to where the men hunted the Lion Girl.  And it was not far.

   "I know where she is," Aaron said.  "There are men chasing her.  I
couldn't fight them on my own.  I need Krace, the akhet."

   Cirrus nodded.  "Come with me," she said.

   They made their way back to the village, where the celebration had died
down.  Men lay about, drunk on imported wine, or had retreated to their
huts for sex and merriment.  Cirrus moved quickly while Aaron followed
behind in the shadows, his axe ready, until they reached a deep pit guarded
by two tired-looking warriors.  The akhet was there, he knew.  He moved
through the shadows, hoping the glint of the axe would not reveal his
location.

   Cirrus glanced back to him and whispered, "Cruel men.  Murderers.  We
should give them to the crocodile-man." Then she walked into the open,
moving confidently toward the two men.  Their eyes focused on her, their
expressions frightened and cruel.  They spoke their own language to Cirrus,
but Aaron could hear their contempt, their hatred, and their lust.  One
fingered his knife.

   Aaron moved toward that man, staying in the shadows, his axe ready.  The
man grabbed Cirrus by the wrist and Aaron saw his chance to strike.  He
jumped from hiding, his axe whistling toward the man's back.  The guard
noticed nothing until a bronze wedge buried itself in his spine.  He jerked
spastically and toppled into the open pit.  At the same time, Cirrus gave
the other man a hard push with her open palm.  He pinwheeled, then followed
his friend into the pit.

   What followed Aaron refused to see, though he could hear the crunching
of bone and the short shrieks suddenly cut off.  After the crunching and
shredding died down, silence followed.

   "Krace?" Aaron called down.

   "Is that you, Aaron?" the crocodile-man said, his reptilian maw changing
the words in weird ways.  "You're so generous with your snacks.  I was
supposed to kill them, right?"

   "Oh, that's fine.  But we need to get you out of here and find the Great
Lion."

   "Not easy," Krace said.  "We akhet aren't built for climbing."

   After some consideration, Cirrus fetched a rope and, with a great deal
of tugging and some chafed palms, they dragged the struggling crocodile-man
out of the pit.  He had been thoughtful enough to take the weapons with
him, and Aaron took his axe back in addition to a knife.

   "We can't wait," Aaron said.  "The Lion Girl is in trouble, and only she
knows the location of the Great Lion.  Worse, I think Viskar and Kaliss
both know our plans."

   "Then we'll hurry.  Who's your friend?" the akhet said.

   "Oh, this is Cirrus." The girl blushed, then nodded to the
crocodile-man.

   "You two go," she said.

   "Aren't you--"

   "I can't," Cirrus said.  "My place is here.  Soon the new chief will
fight the people of Last Town and be wiped out.  I must stop him, and I can
only do that from here.  Go with the spirits." She hesitated, then stepped
forward and kissed Aaron passionately on the lips.  "I won't forget you. 
Go!"

   The crocodile-man stared placidly at the display.  Aaron pulled away
from the girl's embrace, smiled, and turned toward where he knew the Lion
Girl fled the cruel hunters.  The akhet followed at his own pace, his tail
swishing in the dust.

   ***

   You can look forward to more exciting adventures on Yothis in "The Moons
of Yothis, Part 3: A Queen of Dust." If you have any thoughts, comments,
reviews, or critiques, please send them to lordgodpantokrator@gmail.com.  

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